Quotes About Mind

my desire to ascribe responsibility might be more a reflection of my own cast of mind than a fair analysis of what happened, like the fact that we need to know the history of the historian in order to understand the version that is being put in front of us

Who was it said that memory is what we thought we'd forgotten?

as for knowing your own mind, this seemed a bewildering process. How could you know your own mind without using your mind to discover your mind in the first place?

My name is Stuart, and I remember everything.

Constantly he went back over the evidence of his memories.

But if you're very clever, I think there's something that can unhinge you if you're not careful.

But if you're very clever, I think there's something that can unhinge you if you're not careful.

She has only a ghostplay on some frayed screen of memory, which she takes to be the present.

Susan had pointed out that everyone has their love story. Even if it was a fiasco, even if it fizzled out, never got going, had all been in the mind to begin with: that didn't make it any the less real. And it was the only story.

The first poets were gods. Poetry began with the bicameral mind. The god-side of our ancient mentality, at least in a certain period of history, usually or perhaps always spoke in verse. This means that most men at one time, throughout the day, were hearing poetry (of a sort) composed and spoken within their own minds.

Poetry begins as the divine speech of the bicameral mind. Then, as the bicameral mind breaks down, there remain prophets.

The very reason we need logic at all is because most reasoning is not conscious at all.

Subjective conscious mind is an analog of what is called the real world. It is built up with a vocabulary or lexical field whose terms are all metaphors or analogs of behavior in the physical world.

Every god is a jealous god after the breakdown of the bicameral mind.

The words had somehow managed to bypass reason on the way out of his mouth

Fear did rather play havoc with one's self of time.

Why? He sounded bemused. He'd whispered the word. She supposed he meant: why are you here? Because her mind answered with: Because I love you, and damn you for it. You have both made my life worth living and utterly ruined it, and I'm grateful that you did. She smiled faintly. She would never say it.

Who in their right mind doesn't like flying?" Jack asked, with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Army, Navy, and Marines, sir." "And there's a reason they're not on my team, Captain. I believe I did qualify it with right mind.

Iain didn't go back to sleep for a long while. He continued to think about all the logical reasons he would never allow himself to be turned into a lovesick weakling like Patrick, and when he finally fell asleep, he had convinced himself that he would distance his heart from his mind. He dreamed about her.

There are moments when the filament of time bends, loops, blurs. The present becomes permeable; the past leaps forward and insists itself upon us without warning. The orderly progression of our days reveals itself to be a lie, and the sense making brain flounders. What was he supposed to call this impossibility that insisted itself before him as reality? A hallucination? Deja vu, that cheap cinematic trick of the mind?

Wake the sleeper must, and confront his fears, or risk being lost in the dark places of the mind forever.

Human memory is a strange thing," he observed. "How it comes and goes. How sometimes folk tuck the past away so deep they forget it's there at all. The human mind is full of byways, dead ends, locked chambers. Strongboxes guarding matters too painful to be brought into the light; dusty corners where items considered too trivial are tossed away. You'll remember one day. And if you do not, perhaps it is no matter.

My feet will tread soft as a deer in the forest," said Conor, frowning with concentration. "My mind will be clear as water from the sacred well. My heart will be strong as a great oak. My spirit will spread an eagle's wings, and fly forth. This is the way of truth.

I cannot expiate my sin, yet I am compelled to try. My mind will not let me rest. There must be something I could have done, some way I could have acted, something I could have changed to snatch victory from bitter defeat.